Friends & Family
by Anneack
Summary: A ghost from Paul's past come to effect his future


Paul Blaisdell yawned and stretched. It was a tossup as to which was worse, a day spent in meetings or a day spent on paperwork. The pile in his in basket that had been threatening to topple and take over his desk was now back under control and by the end of the day would be gone if no emergency came up, and of course police captains never had emergencies. Three days of nothing but one situation after another was the reason his in box had gotten to that condition in the first place. 

A short rap was followed so suddenly by the door opening that the person may as well have not bothered knocking. There were two people in the station who would do that; his foster-son, Peter Caine, who was also one of his detectives, he had nearly cured of it. Detective Kermit Griffin, his long time friend and companion of more wars than he wanted to remember, never had and never would learn to wait for a response after knocking.

"I'm back," the dark haired man responded throwing a pile of letters on his superior's desk.

Something must have set his friend off. He didn't need to have been a detective to decide that the letters would likely be a hint as to what burr was under Kermit's blanket. Donning his reading glasses, he looked at the letters on his desk.

"Why is MY mother writing YOU letters? You two didn't even know each other," Kermit snarled.

Looking at the carefully addressed envelope, the captain blanched. Getting up,  
he got his coat and walked out of the station.

"Why is she writing to you?" Kermit ask in a quieter tone, having followed his friend to the parking lot

"I have no idea, when I do, I'll tell you," Paul answered back in a tone that demanded obedience.

Kermit glared and returned to the station.

Sighing as he settled in the driver's seat of the Cadillac, Paul, hit speed dial one on his cell phone.

"Hello?"

He would never tire of hearing that voice. "It's me, babe, I'm going to be a late getting home."

"Are you all right?" Annie Blaisdell asked. After almost a quarter of a century with him she had learned to hear what her husband did not say.

"I'm fine; just have some thinking to do."

"Okay, I'm here if you need me," she reminded him.

"I always need you, babe; and you're always there. I'll try not to be too late, but don't wait up."

"I'll leave the porch light on for you, I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Paul hung up, once again wondering what he had ever done to deserve the woman he had at home. No questions asked, just love and support.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he drove. It didn't matter really where he went, he just had to go. In the same way that Peter headed to water when he had to think and Kermit headed to his computer, Paul went for a drive.

Looking at the packet of letters tossed on the passenger seat, he thought back to when he had last seen the handwriting that addressed the letters. He had been fourteen and a freshman in high-school; she was eighteen and a senior. Then one day she had disappeared, and he had never heard from her again. He had looked for her, and whenever there was a new search engine he would try putting her name in hoping for some news of her, but nothing had ever come of it.

"Mary, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into and why didn't you ask for help?" He snarled. Part of him had wanted to embrace her and part of him wanted to shake her until her teeth fell out, he would never have chance to do either, now. After reading the letters he would hopefully at least know why she had left and what had become of her. He could only hope that she had at least had a happy life. Something told him, however, that she had not.

Eventually the buildings gave way to tree filled suburbs and then to fields of grains and livestock. When he found himself at the exit to one of his and Peter's favorite fishing spots, he pulled in. It was a nature park that had walking trails as well as good fishing if a person wasn't able to get enough time off to go farther. He could get lost on the trails until he found a place to read his letters in private.

Leaving his suit jacket in the car and changing from dress shoes into the sneakers he kept in the trunk, he set out for his walk. His attire of dress pants and shirt and running shoes got glances from the few people he passed,  
but since the was the middle of the day during a work week, very few people were around, which was fine by him.

An hour later he had found a place with a rock to sit on that overlooked the lake, perfect for reading. Settling in, he pulled out his reading glasses and the top letter from the small pile of letters. He had put the in order according to the date written on the envelope, they had never been mailed but the writer had thoughtfully dated them.

Dear Paul,  
It seems weird to be writing to you, but I can't write to mom, and Pete wouldn't understand, so you got elected. Some people write in a diary, I write letters to my kid brother. Funny that you're the youngest of us kids and yet when there's a problem you're the one that Pete and I go to for help. Maybe that's not so surprising since, while Pete has the biggest heart in the family, he's not the brightest bulb that was ever hung on the family tree, and mom has everything she can handle working full time and taking in washing and sewing to keep us all fed and clothed with a roof over our heads.

I should probably start by apologizing for running away like I did, and then explain what happened, just in case you're still listening and haven't burned this letter in fury. I know you'll read this to the end, though, because you never could stay mad at me.

Maybe you remember Jack Killian; he was the quarterback my senior year. You never did like him much, Paul. Neither did mom, come to think of it. Pete was the only one other than me that did, but then, he liked everyone.

Jack and I started dating right after the homecoming game. I didn't tell you, Paul, because I knew what you thought of him. You never believed any boy was good enough for me, but you especially seemed to dislike Jack. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to your warnings about him when he first started coming around, my life would be much happier if I had. He was so kind to me and really made me feel like I was somebody special.

You remember the New Year's party at Sally's that mom let me go to? Well, it wasn't just us girls. I didn't tell mom or she never would have let me go; she thought it was all girls. It was one of the few times I intentionally deceived mom. She called Sally's mom to make certain that it was an all girls slumber party like I said, but instead of Sally's mother she got her older sister, and well, I probably don't need to draw a picture of what the party was like. I had never drunk before and don't really remember much of the party, but I woke up and my undies were across the room. I was so embarrassed, I had always been so carefully not to be one of 'those' girls, and yet there I was. I never told mom, but I think she knew.

It was Washington's Birthday when I figured out that I was pregnant. I didn't even know who the father was because I had no memory of who I was with at the party. Jack was there, so I was probably with him, but there wouldn't be any way of proving that. And let's face it, the Killian's were an important family from the right side of the tracks and then there was us. I thought about getting an operation, but I just couldn't bring myself to do that, there was only one place I knew of that did that kind of thing and Betty next door had nearly died after going there when the operation didn't go right.

I didn't know what else to do and I knew that if I didn't leave soon, everyone would know anyway, so I ran. I had heard that Chicago had a place where girls like me could go and have their babies and the babies would be put in good homes with families that can take care of them. Right now the plan is that I have the baby and give it away and then come home. People will still talk about me, but at least the baby will have a good future.

Love, Mary

Paul leaned his head back, a tear working down his slightly craggy features. Dear, sweet, kind, loving Mary. She had deserved so much better than that. All she had ever wanted was for someone to love her like their dad loved their mom. Paul had no memories of his father, but Mary remembered him and had told him stories about how much he loved their mom and about the farm they had lived on until he died in the combine accident.

She was wrong about their mother, though; Molly Blaisdell would have understood and welcomed her daughter home with open arms. She had been broken hearted when her girl had run off, it was the only time Paul ever remembered seeing his mother cry. She had probably cried when Pete was killed in Korea as well, but Paul had been in Korea himself when he had gotten the news, so if she had, he didn't know about it. They had talked about it once, and Molly had commented that Pete's death she could accept because he had died fighting for things he believed in, but she would never know what happened to Mary, so had no peace about that.

Jack Killian, Paul clenched his fists just thinking about that cretin! He had been a good for nothing rich boy womanizer in high school and he had never been anything else as far as Paul knew. He had kept in touch with a few friends from back home and Jack never had changed from all the stories he had heard about him over the years.

"We would have found a way to get through your pregnancy, Mary, just like we got through everything thing else, as a family," Paul said softly, shaking his head at the foolishness caused by the young woman's pride.

Putting the first letter away, he opened the second.

Dear Paul

It's hard to believe, but I'm married. His name's Vincent Griffin, he's a lawyer that I met here in Chicago. I walk in the park a lot and he spends his lunch hours there so we had gotten to talking. He asked me to join him one day and I did, and, well, I guess you could say that we got into the habit of meeting for lunch. When he asked me if I would like to go out one evening, I decided to tell him the truth so I told him about the baby and my living in the home for unwed mothers. I expected him to run away form me screaming but he was very nice and understanding about it. We went out every night for two weeks and someone mistook me for his wife and he didn't bother correcting them, but asked me if I would and I said yes.

So I've gone from being an unwed mother living in a home waiting to give up my baby to being the wife of a successful and fairly wealthy lawyer living in a nice large apartment in the better part of town. It's all a bit much to take in. I was starting to show so we had a quiet civil ceremony and no honeymoon, but are planning on taking a trip for our first anniversary. His parents didn't seem to think much of me, but then, all things considered, I can understand that.

I know it's sudden, and you likely think that I'm using him as a way out of this mess. I'm not, I really do like him; thought I'll also admit to being grateful to him for his help. This means I can keep the baby, and I'll love him forever for that. It feels weird to be living as a society wife after growing up on the farm and then, well, mom worked twelve hour days more often than not, by the time she was done with the sewing and laundry she did after all day at the factory and we were still barely above poverty. Hopefully I can send her some help, I'll have to talk to Vincent, but it would be nice.

Love, Mary.

It was a short letter and obviously had been written in a time of high hopes. Vincent Griffin - if Paul ever laid eyes on the man he would now have two reasons to beat him senseless. He knew how the man had treated his adopted eldest son ... and had a hunch he had not treated his wife much better.

"Mar," if you had just come home, mom and I would have helped you raise Kermit, and some decent man would have seen the treasure you were. Life would have been easier for both of you. We could have given you and Kermit both a decent life," Paul sighed. Leave it to his sister to dive at the first workable solution without looking at it closely enough to see if it really was a good solution.

Sighing, for a beloved sister who had died too young and was still sorely missed, he laid down the letter and picked up the next one.

Dear Paul,

It's September and my first day home from the hospital. I have a beautiful, healthy baby boy. I wanted to name him Kermit and since Vincent didn't care one way or the other, Kermit Griffin he is. He has a mass of dark hair and dark blue eyes. The doctor said all babies are born with blue eyes but not all stay blue, since his are so dark I expect they'll change as he gets older to brown. Jack had black hair and dark eyes, so I guess that confirms who his father likely is, not that I ever could have done anything about it.

The only thing that's less than perfect is that I'm totally alone. Vincent's parents didn't come to the hospital to see the baby and haven't even called to see how we're doing. Vincent hasn't shown much interest in the baby himself; I'm hoping that will change over time. I know that Kermit isn't theirs but it seems like when Vincent married me he made Kermit his. I certainly can't see you treating a child of yours that way.

I love and miss you and mom

Mary

He took a deep breath and counted to ten in an effort not to scream. How could Mary not have realized what the future held for her and Kermit?

It still blew his mind that one of his best friends was, in point of fact, his nephew. Even as an eighteen-your-old kid, Kermit had had a smoldering anger in him that never had totally left. Maybe he could have stopped that anger before it began if he been a part of Kermit's life while he was growing up.

Once more he laid down a letter and picked up another.

Dear Paul,

It's new Years day, Kermit's three, now, and I have a one month old daughter, Marilyn. I was so hoping that Vincent and his family might be more interested this time. As far as Vincent's family is concerned, the kids and I may as well not exist. Vincent's not much better. He doesn't seem to have anything against the kids, but he doesn't want anything to do with them either.

I really wish I could say I'm happy, Paul, but I would be lying. Vincent works long hours, and when he is home, he's shut up in his office. Heaven help us if the Kermit starts romping and making noise or Marilyn gets fussy while he's trying to work. The kids are totally my responsibility and if we have guests, the kids are either to be out of sight or perfectly behaved. Needless to say that is too much to expect from a three year old boy. Kermit is a good boy, but is he still learning what is expected of him and Vincent doesn't seem to remember that and sees him as defiant instead of just young. He expects perfection from all of us, and has no compassion if it's not met. The truth is, as much as I love being a mother; I don't want any more children. It's just not right for them to have to live like this.

I wish you could see Kermit. Even as young as he is, there is a streak of independence in him that reminds me a lot of you. Not unlike his uncle, my boy is also completely fearless, resulting in his climbing the 'big' slide and smacking his head open when he landed. It healed fine, but he has a scar there now and a little streak of white in his black hair. He really is such a sweet little boy and so loving. Vincent has no idea on what he is missing. Kermit wants so much for Vincent to take an interest in him and love him that it breaks my heart when he gets only rebukes for his attempts to please his dad. Hopefully Vincent will wise up before the kids decide he's not worth the effort.

Love, Mary

Paul shook his head. How any man could treat his own children that way, even children that he had gotten through adoption or marrying their mother, was beyond him. He knew too well just how loyal and, well, loving Kermit could be towards those who had earned his respect and affection. In a lot of ways, Kermit had been his own first foster-child. He certainly loved him as much as he did his own son. And the younger man had proven himself more than once to be just as affectionate and giving and caring towards him as Peter.

He changed his letter for the last one.

Dear Paul,

Once more it's been awhile since I wrote to you and I doubt I will be again. Kermit and Marilyn are ten and seven now, and David, my youngest, is one month. Yes, I know I had said no more kids, but, well, considering you likely have children of your own at this point, I'm sure you understand.

I remember the first time I attended one of the lawyer's ladies lunch club. All of us were married to highly successful lawyers and used the lunches to keep sane. We gave each other the support and encouragement that our husband's were too busy to give us. Gail, one of the perfectly frosted and coifed senior members of the group, about a year ago found herself divorced and left with nothing after twenty years of marriage. Everyone seemed to blame her for the divorce saying that if she had let her husbands numerous affairs go instead of raising a fuss then it would never have happened. It seems that it's accepted among the women that husbands will have affairs and you accept them quietly in exchange for the good life. Guess who isn't very good at that?

I have too much of mom in me, I guess, to calmly allow my husband to walk all over me like that. Vincent's had numerous affairs and doesn't even bother trying to cover them up, assuming that, like the other women, as long as he supports me well I won't care. His latest thing was for his young, blonde, and willing secretary with the perfect body. I would like to see how she looks ten years older with three kids to take care of. Sorry, I know that was a catty thing to say but it's how I'm feeling at the moment. When Gail was going through her divorce I was shocked to hear the group discussing who they thought would likely be the next replaced for a younger model. No one guessed it would be me.

As part of the divorce agreement, Vincent supplied the down payment for a house for us. It's not large since I have to be able to make the monthly payments. I've gone from the best suburbs and a mini mansion to just this side of poverty. At least this is returning to a life I'm familiar with and have lived in before. Gail is in the same place, but she has never not been wealthy before, so I suppose it could be worse. It's like going back to our childhood, except now I'm the mother. Thankfully, Kermit is a huge help, and Marilyn loves helping tend David. The kids aren't sad to see Vincent go, since he never did show much interest in them, and in fact has never seen and doesn't want to see David.

With Vincent gone, maybe Kermit will get past the anger and moodiness that seem to be so much a part of him. He and Vincent have been fighting ever since he started walking and talking. Marilyn had a little easier time of it, and was more hurt than angry by Vincent's leaving. Before you ask, between the move, the kids, and starting a new job I haven't had time to figure out how I feel, except strangely relieved. I may not be living the good life any more, but at least I can have a life and not worry about being perfect all the time. And I won't have to explain to my kids why their dad ignores them and me.

I love you a lot,

Mary.

Shaking, and with a tear dropping from his rugged face. Paul silently bound the letters together. Had Mary really thought that he wouldn't help her or would be unwilling to help her? Didn't she know how much he loved her? He knew from Kermit what a struggle she had had in the nine years between this letter and her death while Kermit was in Vietnam. Funny, he had stayed with Kermit, while the younger man got drunk in his grief over his mother's death... had supported and grieved with his friend, never realizing that the woman being mourned was his sister.

Grabbing a small rock near the tree he threw it violently out in the lake. Why? Why had she never told him or his mother about her pregnancy and oldest son, or later when she was unhappy in her evidently emotionally and verbally abusive marriage had she never sent written or called them. Either of them would have helped her when she found herself a single parent of three children. If she had, then maybe Kermit would have less pain and turmoil in his life, Marilyn might have had an easier time of it, and certainly David would have. When Mary died, he and Grace would have been happy to take her kids until they were grown. How much pain and agony that alone would have solved, since the two younger children would have had a loving and supportive home to wait in until Kermit and he got home from 'Nam.

"Excuse me, sir, but you're going to have to head out, the park closes at sunset and that's in about fifteen minutes. You need to head back," a young man in a park ranger uniform addressed him.

"Thank you," Paul answered politely, getting up and returning to his car.

Returning to the city, the captain started plotting and planning. There was no question about if he was going to tell Kermit or not, but he had to think of a way to do it without losing his friend forever. This was enough of a shock for him, which was nothing compared to how his nephew was going to take this.

Kermit climbed into the passenger seat of the Cadillac. He had been called late last night and informed that his mentor would pick him up the next morning because they were going on a road trip. No explanation, no hint as to where they were going or why, just instructions to be ready to go on an over night trip. The only assurance he had been given was that it was not a mission. Paul hadn't offered any information and Kermit was wise enough not to ask for any. When he was ready, the captain would let him know what was going on, until then he would trust the man to know what he was doing.

Silence settled between them as Paul pulled out into the traffic and onto the interstate. Quiet was something they were both familiar with, they could go for hours together without saying a word. This was proving to be one of the rare times when the silence was not only uncomfortable; it was becoming downright oppressive.

"How were Marilyn and the kids?" Paul asked, as they passed the state border into Indiana.

"Fine; Mar loves the Gables, and the kids are adjusting to high school and Middle school respectively."

"Marilyn remarried while I was gone didn't she? And had a baby?"

"He left, and trust me; she's better off without the jerk," Kermit growled sipping the coffee they had picked up on the last gas stop.

"I take it he didn't treat them well?" Paul asked, sighing as he thought about yet another generation of the family raised by a single mother. It was like some kind of curse was following the women of the family, striking down their husbands when they were still relatively young or giving them husbands who mistreated and abused them instead of loving them and treating them the way a man should, leaving the women to raise their kids alone while supporting their families. His mother had remarried, but only after her children were grown. Mary hadn't remarried, but as far as he knew. Maybe Kermit knew. Marilyn had remarried, but evidently it had not gone well and she was alone again, but now had one more baby to care for. Kermit at least could care for her in a way that Paul had not been privileged to aid his sister.

"He yelled at the kids if they made any noise, berated Marilyn all the time, and was never satisfied about anything. I guess she learned from mom's mistakes, because the first time she caught him in a lie about him and his secretary she threw him out. If she hadn't I would have."

"Sounds like my brother-in-law," Paul muttered, and wondered, not for the first time, why women put up with men treating them badly.

Kermit raised an eyebrow. Paul rarely mentioned any family beyond his wife, three children, and one grandchild. He certainly had never mentioned siblings.

"He was from the old belief that a man's home is his castle and his family is to be seen and heard only when convenient. He did what he pleased and they were supposed to accept it. When she wouldn't let him walk all over her, sis found herself replaced for a younger and more compliant model," Paul explained.

"And you let him live?"

"I didn't know until it was over. But if I ever meet him, I may beat him to death; shooting him would cause too much paper work."

"Jerk, sounds like my father, as well as your son-in-law," Kermit commented, giving a faint smile of agreement about the paperwork.

"That's very likely why he and Caroline aren't married any more. She put up with a lot from him, and tried to be understanding about the long hours and the business trips that had him gone more than he was home. She was even willing to work through his first affair, but when it happened again, she tossed him out," Paul growled. He never had liked Todd, particularly, and really wished that he and Caroline had waited a little longer to get married. He smirked a bit though, as he remembered that she had not had to throw him out because he had been running too fast trying to get away before Mt. St. Caroline erupted.

"I put my wives through hell at times living with me, but I never cheated on any of them! Ever!"

Paul looked over at his passenger. "You're too good a man to do that to any woman."

"If I had even considered it, my mother's ghost would have killed me," Kermit responded with a snort.

Paul grinned in agreement, he shuddered to think what his mother would have done if he had slept around on Gracie or Annie. She had adored Grace and would have loved Annie if the women had ever met.

It was nearing evening as Kermit pulled the car down the road Paul directed. They were in a slum area of Detroit. All of the houses were badly in need of repairs; a few were boarded up and abandoned. You didn't need to be a cop to know that this was a high crime area, with drugs and prostitution prevalent. There was no blood or dead bodies, but years as a mercenary had taught Kermit to recognize a war zone when he drove through it. Violence was not a stranger to this place.

"You wanted to check out possible retirement real estate?" Kermit quipped.

"No, just had a sudden urge to see the old stomping ground, remind myself where I came from. It was bad enough then, worse now," he responded in a voice that was sad and tired.

"My neighborhood was a little better, but it looks about the same as this now," Kermit commiserated. He would not have thought that his mentor came from the wrong side of the tracks in a big city.

"It was the best mom could do. She and dad had a farm in Iowa. They figured if they could just make it through the dry spell they, would be okay. About the time they had decided to get out while they could, dad died in a farm accident. Mom had two young kids and was pregnant with me, so she did the only thing she could think of to do, sold the farm for what she could get and joined her sister here. The farm was just enough to pay for the house, and give her a few months to recover from having me before she went to work. Working full time at the factory and taking in washing, ironing, and sewing in the evenings while raising three kids. I don't know how she ever did it, Kermit," Paul shook his head.

"Same way my mother did it, because it was what she had to do," Kermit answered as Paul pointed him around another turn.

"There's the old house," the graying man pointed to a smallish house with peeling paint, and overgrown weeds for a lawn. Personally, Paul was glad to see it wasn't abandoned, but he cringed at the idea of anyone living in it in its present state. Half of the windows were boarded up and it looked like a good wind would blow it over. He knew better than to make eye contact with the wild critters giving him furtive glances from the windows that could still be looked out. Too many years as a cop had taught him the folly of acting in a way that could be seen as challenging to the local druggies.

One of the scantily clad women smiled at Kermit and approached the car. A glare from the shaded detective sent her scurrying back to the corner wait for her next potential client. "A real fixer-upper, now may I suggest that we find another neighborhood to go for the night while you still have a car left?"

"Just keep going straight on this road and you'll hit the Hilton where I got us rooms," Paul answered. One time he had forgotten to make reservations on one of their pleasure jaunts and Kermit had never let him live it down.

The car shot out of there so fast one would have thought it was entered in the Indianapolis 500. Paul watched the ghetto evolve into inner-city and then to city, from the poor and destitute to the idle wealthy. It always amazed him that you could go from one extreme to another in such a short distance.

Half an hour later, both men were settled into their rooms; one of them had refreshed with a shower and the other with a call to wife and grandson. Room service had been called and dinner was on its way to Paul's room. He thought about getting them a shared room but figured that when Kermit got the news he would need a place to retreat to other than behind his trademark shades.

Steaks, potatoes, salads, and the best wine on the list were invited in for dinner fifteen minutes after that. Both men got comfortable at the table. The man who brought the meal up raised an eyebrow at the two men and the one bed in the room. The blue lasers from one side and the smoldering fire from the other sent him scurrying for cover.

"So, was there a reason you wanted to bring a passenger along for this trip down amnesia lane?" Kermit inquired.

"I just felt like sharing it with someone, and you got elected."

Kermit smiled and sipped his wine.

"Actually, I just got to thinking about my childhood and wanted to revisit the place where it happened," the older man confessed.

"What brought this on?"

"You were visiting your sister and it got me to thinking about mine," he answered leaning back.

"You have a sister?"

"Had, I had a sister, just like I had a brother."

"Named Peter and Mary and the three of you sang folk songs together," the younger man chuckled.

"We never sang together, though Mary was in the church choir."

"Mary? You had a sister named Mary?" Kermit gaped.

"Yes, mom got our names out of the Bible, said the good book was the place get good strong names. The folk group wasn't formed yet, so we didn't get teased about that."

"My mother was named Mary," he stated, taking off his shades and glowering at his companion.

"It's a common name."

"Was she your sister?" Dark eyes met blue ones, daring a lie. The idea was incredible but it was the only thing that made sense. There was no other logical reason that his mother would have written to his friend.

"Her whole life, but I think maybe she forgot," Paul answered quietly. He had never lied to Kermit and he would not start now. They had a life-long friendship based on trust and he was not about to endanger that.

Nothing more was said as the men finished the meal. Paul handed Kermit the letters, they were written to him, but she was Kermit's mother and he had the right to know her side of things, why she had done the things she had done.

Kermit retired to his room.

They say those also serve who stand and wait, and so in the same way that Kermit had waited and served when his friend had buried a wife, his friend now waited to serve him when needed.

Reclining on the bed, Paul, who was feeling every one of his years, picked up paper and pen.

Dear Mary,

I want to reach out and hug you like I never did when we were kids, and I want to shake you until your teeth fall out! We were family! Did you forget what that means? Mom always said we could get through anything as long as we remember we were family and that family sticks together no matter what. Did you really think that you meant so little to us that we would abandon you because you were pregnant? If so, then you forgot everything you ever knew about us. Family is everything and nothing would have made us love you any less.

I understand that you met a wealthy and charming man in Vincent Griffin and said yes when asked will you. But why didn't you tell us? Do you think we wouldn't have wanted to come to your wedding? Even if you didn't want us there, you at least could have dropped mom a note saying you were alive and well. Do you have any idea how much it hurt her to not know? It was hard enough on her to lose Pete, but at least she knew he was dead. She never did know what happened to you. You cheated her out of the chance to be a grandma by not letting her see and know your children. She was gone by the time my girls were born. You also denied me the chance to be an uncle.

There's so much pain in your letters, Mary. You didn't deserve to go through everything that he put you through. You were right not to quietly accept being mistreated and cheated on. I admire you for standing on your own and raising three kids alone. Mom would have been proud of you and the kids. I just wish I could have been there to help all of you.

I actually did get to know Kermit. We met in Vietnam. My unit was a man short and I was told to report to base and pick up my replacement. Imagine my shock when he was sitting in the stockade. Seems he had seen one of the men roughing up a local girl and proceeded to pound the man, unfortunately, the man was an officer. Needless to say your boy was in a heap of trouble. He had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mt. Everest. Seems that he had a reputation for bucking authority, and with his attitude I had no trouble believing it. I straightened it out and was told to take him and get out. Seems no one there was overly found of Private Griffin. By the time we saw a base again six weeks had passed and you could not have paid me to get rid of him.

He's still surly, unruly, and only follows rules if they don't get in his way. He is also one of the most loyal, honorable, honest, and best friends I've ever had. He and I have been together longer than Annie and I have been married. I can't tell you how many times he's saved my life, probably as often as I've saved his. Thank you for him.

I love you and will miss you forever.

Paul.

Kermit took the long route to his room, the one that gave him a tour of the block and a stop at the liquor store on the corner. Staring at the bottles, he turned and left; he knew too well that getting bombed might get him through the night, but life would be waiting for him when he sobered up. Not to mention that hangovers had long since stopped agreeing with him.

Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out the packet handed him and began reading the first letter as he walked. He was just too keyed up to sit still.

Finishing it, Kermit clenched his teeth and carefully put it away before balling up his fists and punching the wall of a building. His father had taken advantage of his mother at a New Years Eve party. Kermit had always known his mother was in her teens when she had him, but he had hoped that his father had loved her as his dad never had. His mother deserved to have had at least one man in her life who loved her! She deserved better than some loser who waited until she was at a party and too drunk to know what was happening and then left her alone.

Shaking in fury, he pulled out the second letter.

Kermit sighed. He knew his parents never had gone on that trip; his dad had been deep in his first case before the state senate at the time. His job had always come before his family. Just the first of many promises and plans he had made with his wife and then cancelled. His mom sounded happy in this letter; he hopped she was, as short a time as it would have lasted he hoped there had at least be a time in her marriage when she really was happy.

It wasn't really surprising to learn that his dad's family hadn't liked her; they had never liked his mom of any of the children for that matter. They were always hers never his, as thought he had played no part and had no responsibility for them. He had found out about Vincent not being his father when his grandfather had told him as much after Kermit had run into the library when the old man had been drinking too much. Kermit had asked his mother about it and she had ended the visit the next day. No one was sorry.

Quietly he slipped that letter back and pulled out number three.

Considering that in the ten years they lived together his dad had never had one kind thing to say to him, Kermit was not flabbergasted to learn that his dad had rejected him as a baby as well. It would have been enough if the man had at least loved his mom, but he had not even come through for his son with that request.

Shaking his head at a situation he had been able to do nothing about; he replaced the letter and found himself reading a longer one.

Dad couldn't love even his own kids, Kermit made a rumbling kind of sound in his throat. He understood why his dad had not liked him, the man never liked what was not his, but the other two kids were his!

Funny how his mother had seen so much of Paul in him even that early. He wished she could have known of the deep friendship he shared with her brother. He sniffed back a tear; she had died while he was a POW in Vietnam. Not only had he not been able to be there when she died, but she had died not knowing if he was alive or not. At least she hadn't died alone, Marilyn had been there. David wanted to be, but Aunt Ellen thought he was too young and refused to let him stay.

Seeing that he was in a less reputable neighborhood, Kermit turned around, while exchanging his current letter for the last one.

Kermit snorted, if his dad thought his mother would calmly and quietly submit to his sleeping all over the place in exchange for wealth and position than he didn't know the woman he had married. He still remembered the fights his parent would get into over the other women.

His mom was right that he had been relieved when they had moved out. They may not have had money, but they could be real people instead of the perfect picture that his dad wanted.

He remembered seeing his step-mother when he had come to their house after he got home from 'Nam looking for the other kids. Her name was Nancy; she still looked perfect as she had handed their son off to a nanny. She had sneered that she didn't want her baby exposed to a baby killer like him. He had done her the favor after that of ignoring her and merely asking his dad where Marilyn and David were. He told him Aunt Ellen had them as Nancy was too busy with their child to care to two more. That was the last time he had seen either of them. He had, however, checked on their doings every so often and knew that their financial position was precarious, and their two children were nothing but trouble, having been expelled from every reputable school around. One finally accepted them after a sizable donation.

"She may have looked a bit better mom, but your kids worshiped you, hers barely tolerated her," Kermit spoke aloud to himself, chuckling. Hopefully his mother had heard.

His oldest and best friend was his mother's brother. Paul was his uncle. Somehow, it just did not compute. How many hotels had they stayed in over the years on one trip or another rescuing one group or another, for that matter how many times had they found themselves sharing not only a room but a bed for the simple fact that there was only one and both men were exhausted? How often had one watched over the other and warded off nightmares and then be watched over and protected in turn? When was the last time either man had wakened in a MASH or hospital bed, wounded and pained without the other nearby waiting to comfort and aid? The nights they had spent together huddled for warmth and safety in the great and deadly outdoors were too numerous to remember. Just as great were the times they had gone on supposedly one way missions and lived to get drunk together afterwards. Paul had been there to support him through two divorces and watching his son raised by another man.

Kermit smiled, their relationship wouldn't change anything between him and Paul. Paul was already mentor, friend, and often had played surrogate father, so adding uncle to the list would not strain or alter anything. The relationship formed over a lifetime that allowed few friendships was stronger than any blood ties they might have.

He had long ago suspected that Vincent Griffin was not his biological father; he looked nothing like anyone in the Griffin family. Add to that the fact that he was born so soon after his parents' marriage and it was not hard to guess that, contrary to family fictions, he had not been premature. It also certainly explained why his adoptive father had never had much affection for him. Vincent Griffin had given Kermit his name and nothing else; Paul had not given Peter his name but had always loved him and treated him as thought the detective had been his own flesh and blood. How different things might have been if Vincent had loved his adopted son as Paul did his.

Kermit snorted and glared. His relationship with his dad wasn't going to change any more than he and Paul were going to. He hadn't seen the man in years, and was not going to hunt him down now. They say time heals all wounds, but almost forty years had not healed the pain, anger and rage that he felt towards the man who had married his mother. Kermit could not once remember a kind word or gesture directed at his family from the man who was supposed to be the head of their family. He remembered every tear he caused and every lie he told, though.

Funny how he had sworn that when he married and had children he would not be like that man, and yet his wives had had many of the same complaints his mother had and he had been no more involved in his son's life than Vincent had been in theirs. He had never cheated on them; that was the thing that had hurt him the most about his dad, his constant cheating on and lying to his mother. He had never cheated on his wives and he had never lied to them. Nor had he divorced them for women half their age and rubbed their noses in it.

And while his own father had paid almost nothing in child support, Kermit had never failed to be more than generous in assisting in the support of the child his ex-wife had failed to inform him that he had. The money was never given directly, but he none-the-less found ways to help out. And in the course of time when Kermit died, Jim Halstrom was going to be shocked at his inheritance from a father he had never known and the letter accompanying it explaining everything. That was something at least, Kermit decided.

Looking back, he understood why his mother had married his father; she was not the first woman who had married a man in order to provide a family for her child. He could also understand his dad's marrying his mother, she had been a very beautiful woman, as well as being intelligent and something that was best described as classy. He had always thought she was perfect, and had never understood how his dad could ever have been interested in other women.

What Kermit couldn't understand was what reason his mother had for staying with his dad and why she had not stayed connected with her family. Family meant everything to Paul and his mother had not only shared that belief but had passed it on to her children. Perhaps their mother had not believed that, but it was unlikely that they both would have held that value so strong if they had not learned it from her. It was equally unlikely that she wasn't welcome to rejoin them; in fact it was doubtful that they had wanted her to leave. The only one who would possibly have some of these answers was in the hotel waiting for him

Returning to the corner store, he got a decent bottle of scotch. Getting off of the elevator, he stood in front of his uncle's door, he knocked and was admitted.

Taking the offered bottle, Paul blinked. "21 year old Royal Salute? You really did get the good stuff."

"Best in the house."

Paul inclined his head towards the glasses and the younger man retrieved them while Paul went to his overnight bag and pulled out an old battered chess set. He had been carrying it around so long he had forgotten where he got it from. He had taught Kermit to play chess on this board and both won and lost to his friend on this field of friendly battle many times. No matter how bad things were, time, good scotch, in this case excellent scotch, and the chess board could work out any and all difficulties.

Kermit held his hands out with his fists closed. Paul tapped one and was shown a white pawn. It had been a long time since Kermit was automatically given the advantage of playing white and thus getting the first move. Paul was still the better player, but Kermit could give him a good run for his money. Their friend Blake, who had been with them from day one, was better than both of them, though Paul could give him a good game.

The only sound was the occasional click of plastic on plastic as a man was removed from the board.

"What happened to Peter?" Kermit asked moving a pawn.

"He left for Korea just before I did, he died there. Seems that one of the men in his unit stepped on a mine and Peter tackled him, throwing him off the mine and getting himself killed in the process," Paul answered softly. Since this was a night for talking about the past the questions would be about his brother, not his son. Besides as far as he knew, his son was fine and didn't have a scratch on him for a change.

"Peter," Kermit offered holding up his glass in a toast.

"Peter, a great brother and good man," Paul agreed raising his glass.

"Always imagined you as the oldest, and here you are the baby of the family," Kermit commented.

"Surprise," Paul chuckled.

"Mom implied that he wasn't exactly a genius."

"He wasn't particularly bright, so he dropped out of high school and went to work on the docks. He was failing school anyway and figured he was of more use working and earning money to support us. He wasn't smart, but he was a big and strong. With his working full time, I was able to play football instead of working after school every day like he had to. I don't think he ever missed one of my games."

"I played baseball, myself; what position were you?"

"Quarterback when I was on varsity, but played receiver on junior varsity."

"My father was on the football team, did you know him or was he before you?" Kermit asked taking a knight.

"My freshman year was his senior, but I did get to play him in a few practice scrimmages."

"Freshman played on Junior Varsity? When I was in high school you could try out as a freshman but you only got on if you were exceptional and even then you generally rode the bench until you were a sophomore."

"Jack Killian was actually how I got to be a receiver."

Kermit raised an eyebrow as Paul relieved him of a rook.

"I tried out and made the team but likely would have been riding the bench except the first scrimmage when we were basically being used as clobber-fodder for the older team. I managed to intercept more than a few passes and that gave the coach the idea of using me as a receiver."

"Oh, yeah," Kermit smirked, his friend was fast, had good hands, and more guts than brains at times, so he could easily imagine the coach finding him to be a good receiver.

"Best was the scrimmage when I was playing against him, though, I nailed him before he ever got rid of the ball, only time I did it but it was sweet," Paul gloated.

"What was my father like? You obviously didn't like him?" Kermit asked sipping his drink.

"He was a spoiled rich boy who had the best of everything and figured he deserved it. Mary wasn't the first girl that he used and then abandoned," Paul growled.

"Locker room legend?"

"He was always bragging about this conquest or that one, I knew enough of the girls to know that at least the majority of them were not lies. The school wasn't that large."

"He talked about my mother?" Kermit snarled.

Paul smiled evilly. "He never did, but someone else did once, I was suspended for three days but it was worth it."

Kermit laughed as well, he had been suspended a few days once in high school as well after some locker room talk about Marilyn. He figured it was worth it as well.

Quiet resumed as the players continued their game and sipping at their drinks.

"I'm surprised you left when you where the only one of the kids here," Kermit blinked.

"She had remarried by then. Steve was a good man. He was a beat cop I'd known most of my life."

"And that inspired you to become a cop?" Kermit quipped.

The sound that inspired was something between a laugh and a snort. It also cost the bespectacled man a bishop.

"What happened to him?"

"He was killed in the line of duty back in sixty one, mom died a few years later.

"Your military years?" Kermit guessed.

"I was in navel intelligence, I got involved in the business not long after that," Paul explained, feeling unusually mellow with the excellent libations he was drinking.

Silence fell again as the game ended going to Paul and another game was offered and accepted.

"Was my mother happy?" Kermit asked quietly.

"What do you mean? In general I think she was," Paul answered looking at his friend.

"I don't remember her ever being happy, definitely not with dad and after their divorce all she had time for was working and taking care of us kids. I don't remember her ever doing anything for herself or having fun. She was tired and worried most of the time, and then she got sick shortly after I left. "I guess I was just hoping that at some point in her life she was happy."

"She was very happy here. We didn't have a lot, but mom always taught us that as long as we had each other we would be fine. Uncle Joe and Aunt Sally lived close to us so we saw quite a bit of them. We were in high school when Uncle Joe changed jobs and they moved to New York. We went back there once to see them. It was the only real vacation we were ever able to take as a family."

"Did mom like New York?"

"She liked seeing it, but she was also happy to go, it was too crowded for her taste," Paul chuckled at the memory.

"Did my father care anything about her?" Kermit asked slowly and deliberately, as the amount of scotch he had drunk was beginning to affect him.

"I think he did as much as he cared about anyone other than himself," Paul answered after a moment's thought. "At least he never talked about her in the locker room like he did the other girls he went out with. At least not that I was aware of."

Kermit grunted, sipped his scotch and lost a man.

"I wish she had gone back home after having me, or at least after the divorce," Kermit slurred slightly after a long silence.

"Me, too," Paul agreed, slurring a bit, himself.

Smiling, Kermit got up to look out the window. The sun was just starting to be seen over the skyline. The men had stayed up all night drinking and talking and playing their game. But he had the answers he had needed.

"Kermit, you know you were family long before this," Paul said joining him at the window.

"This doesn't change anything," he concurred.

Paul looked at the last swallows of scotch, and went to his glass raised it. "To Mary."

Kermit picked his up from the table and turned to face his friend. "To Mary."

Both men drank to a woman they had each loved in their way and still missed.


End file.
